


Moments of Dutiful Tranquility

by tnnyoh



Series: We Had Trust/I Choose Him [8]
Category: Hitman (Video Games)
Genre: 47 is just as enamoured with her as she is with him, Adorable, Cutesy, Denial of Feelings, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, though it is a different kind of feeling for him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnnyoh/pseuds/tnnyoh
Summary: One look, one touch of a hand can set the spiral in motion.





	Moments of Dutiful Tranquility

When he wasn't working, 47 liked to use his spare time to meditate. It helped him center himself and gave him something more to do than sit around waiting for a call from the ICA.  One such afternoon he was sitting in the middle of the living room floor in his apartment, taking one deep breath after another.  His serene meditation was interrupted by a bird slamming into the living room window.  He opened his eyes and crossed to the window, looking out.  

 

The bird had knocked it's head quite hard and fallen onto the outside window stool that jutted out of the foundation of the apartment. He quickly went to retrieve gloves and an empty box to bring the bird inside, while in the kitchen he grabbed a dish towel to wrap the bird up in, making the box as comfortable as possible, he set the bird down inside.  He knew that injured birds were unlikely to take drink or water, as the shock of the injury has taken place of any other base instincts.  

 

Once he assessed the birds injuries, he carefully moved the box, gently so as not to jostle the bird, he set it on the counter underneath the stove's built in lamp.  The bird was behaving wearily, weak and fearful, not alert at all.   He knew that it would take a bit for the bird to recover.   

While he was tending to the bird, there was a quiet knock on his door, He took off the now ruined gardening gloves, he would have to throw them away to avoid the spread of any diseases, birds carry many, after all.  He crossed to the door and saw through the tiny peephole that it was a familar face, though her face was not what he saw first, it was the spark of red in her hair, He was always reminded of the coneflower, soft pink and red and attracted songbirds.  

He opened the door "Hello, Diana" He said, his voice even and calm.  She offered him a smile. This was not the first time she had made a house-call.  When the two would meet as friends, there was always a worry in the back of their minds, the ICA frowns on their agents and handlers forming friendships outside of work.  But as Diana had said "They aren't watching all the time, and even if they are. I know how to shut those servers down" 

"It's quiet in here" She remarked, stepping into his apartment and noting the dark atmosphere, this wasn't the first time she had been here of course, despite the ICA wishing to keep their Agents and Handlers strictly professional, 47 knew that his bond with Diana went beyond strict professionalism, throughout his career as a hired assassin under her care she had gone above and beyond to help him not only on the field with her intel, but in his personal life.   She had risked so much to save him on more than one occasion.  They would never be strict professionals.   
He nodded "Yes, I was meditating"   
"Sorry to drop by unannounced" She said "But, this isn't just a simple house-call, I wanted to go over some papers with you. Research.  I believe the ICA will hand these cases over to us and I would like to be ready when they do"   
"Take a seat" He said, watching as she nearly tripped over the couch pillows he had propped up on the floor for support during his meditations.  She gracefully recovered and sat down, spreading the papers out over his coffee table and pouring over them with ease, comfort, as though this were her favorite thing in the world to do. He bent down to pick up the pillows and placed them gently on the couch, she gave him a little smile as thanks.  
"Would you like something to drink?" He asked

She glanced over the files and then back at him as if she were considering, "You know, come to think of it. I would love a nice Sea Breeze, do you know how to make one?"   
"Vodka, cranberry juice and grapefruit juice" He recited from memory "Yes, I do know how. I can make that for you"  
"You don't have to, of course. It's just so dreadfully warm out there, and it does sound so refreshing, plus the company can't get mad at me for drinking on the clock when I'm not at work"  
"You  _are_ doing work, though"  He said, crossing into the kitchen and retrieving the proper ingredients  
"I'm doing pre-work, there's a difference, 47" She smirked.  47 was always intrigued by her dutiful preoccupation with work, he had a hard time imagining her ever being able to relax, she was always more comfortable doing her job, when they weren't on a contract she was often researching things in the area, checking up on the news, old and new and rereading through some of the more notable kills done by others as well as himself.  He often wondered how she felt about the act of killing, They didn't really talk about it much outside of her assigning the targets.  

  
He mixed the drinks up and poured them into a couple of glasses, carrying them carefully over to the table, setting one to the side of her papers and holding the remaining in his hand as he sat gently on the couch beside her, she took the drink and a small sip "Oh this is good" She said "This is really good. Is there anything you  _can't_  do?" She asked, taking another sip "Goodness, you know 47, if you ever wish to leave the ICA you could make quite a living as a bartender" 

"A noble profession." He said, taking a sip of his own drink and watching as she sifted through papers "This case is so interesting" She said "Do you want me to read it out for you?"

"I'd rather not know about a case we don't have yet, Diana." 

"Oh we are so going to get it, the ICA hates cases like this because none of the agents want to get involved in political assassinations. You don't care, they love you for that" 

"How do you feel about these?" He tried to indicate the papers, detailing various political cases from the ICA's files but he reached for the papers as she was reaching for her drink and their hands brushed against each other.  A gentle, subtle touch that felt like a jolt of electricity.  "Oh" She let out a little gasp "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you like that" 

"It isn't a problem" He said, moving his hands away and he felt a little chill, the same kind one would feel if a window was left open during a cool night.  As the two sat in silence, her reading the files, and he watching her read, he realized that it felt as though his meditation was never interrupted at all, as her presence offered the same amount of peace, maybe even moreso. 


End file.
